Fans relax on the outdoor patio during the 21st Annual KROQ Acoustic Christmas at Gibson Amphitheatre on Sunday. DAVID HALL, FOR THE ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER

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Dougy Mandagi of the Temper Trap performs during KROQ's 21st annual Almost Acoustic Christmas. ANA P. GUTIERREZ, FOR THE ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER

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Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeros pianist Aaron Embry poses with his family after performing at the 21st Annual KROQ Acoustic Christmas at Gibson Amphitheatre on Sunday. DAVID HALL, FOR THE ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER

Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeros members Alex Ebert and Jade Castrinos pose for a photo backstage after performing at the 21st Annual KROQ Acoustic Christmas at Gibson Amphitheatre on Sunday. DAVID HALL, FOR THE ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER

Members of Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeros get together for a press interview after performing the 21st Annual KROQ Acoustic Christmas at Gibson Amphitheatre on Sunday. DAVID HALL, FOR THE ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER

Florence Welch of Florence + the Machine performs during KROQ's 21st annual Almost Acoustic Christmas. ANA P. GUTIERREZ, FOR THE ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER

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Frontman Dougi Mandagi of the Temper Trap poses for a quick photo after the band's set at the 21st Annual KROQ Acoustic Christmas at Gibson Amphitheatre on Sunday. DAVID HALL, FOR THE ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER

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The Temper Trap performs during KROQ's 21st annual Almost Acoustic Christmas. ANA P. GUTIERREZ, FOR THE ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER

Dr. Drew pauses for a quick photo with Register contributor David Hall while mingling backstage at the 21 Annual KROQ Acoustic Christmas at Gibson Amphitheatre on Sunday. DAVID HALL, FOR THE ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER

No, Daft Punk did not turn up at any point during Phoenix’s set. There weren’t any other surprises amid the five-hour show, either: no Weezer, no Foo Fighters, no No Doubt ... not even the Armenian Comedian.

For the first time in four years, the set times KROQ revealed for its annual weekend of Almost Acoustic Christmas shows turned out to be exactly how the event went down at Gibson Amphitheatre, though the Temper Trap did graciously swap spots with Florence + the Machine when the latter got stuck in traffic on the 405.

Yet, as has happened in the past, what looks so amazing on paper can sometimes prove to be spotty on site. Think back to 2004, Night 1, just about as consistently great a night of music as KROQ has ever presented -- and still Taking Back Sunday were dull, Jimmy Eat World seemed rote and Gwen Stefani’s surprise twofer appearance felt out-of-place alongside Muse, Franz Ferdinand, Interpol and the Killers.

Or how about two years later, when the Foo owned the weekend? The Coachella-lite half of that bash had Beck, the Raconteurs, Gnarls Barkley, Snow Patrol … and Panic! at the Disco and Angels & Airwaves, groan. (In retrospect, 2005 looks more solid than ever: Depeche Mode, Coldplay, the White Stripes, Jack Johnson, Death Cab for Cutie, Hot Hot Heat, Nada Surf … even the Bravery weren’t bad that night.)

Neon Trees, the Utah quartet with roots in Temecula, was the obvious weakness this time; “Animal,” the group’s ode to excess, is plenty catchy, but everything else about the Trees’ set felt contrived and secondhand, from the Killers-ish music to Mohawk-sporting Tyler Glenn’s screechy, over-the-top vocals.

Nothing else on the bill should have bored, but of course that was being too optimistic.

I certainly wasn’t expecting Flowers to indulge the sleepiest acoustic rendition of “When You Were Young” imaginable, followed later by a dreary take on “Mr. Brightside” that sucked out the urgent obsession and filled that void with droningly sustained keyboard tones.

As for material from his solo album Flamingo, it’s much too wispy to leave any impression, even when culling inspiration from historical struggle. I suspect there’s still a great synth-pop side project to come from this Pet Shop Boys fan -- this just isn’t it. And considering how much more the Black Keys, the Temper Trap and Florence + the Machine killed, B-Flow really should have appeared lower on the lineup.

And since I’m focusing on slight disappointments first, let’s get Phoenix out of the way.

Yes, the four Frenchmen and their support team sounded sharp as ever in this last hurrah before headed home to Paris to create something new. Yes, virtually everything they played from Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix was irresistible, not just “Lisztomania” (to open) and “1901” (to close). And no, I’m not the least bit bummed about Daft Punk not joining in; that duo requires arena spaces to achieve anything substantial, so looking punier next to lithe Thomas Mars would have been a letdown. What would they have done on that minimal half-stage -- stand around like the robots they are?

My issue is with Phoenix’s staging and pacing. I don’t get the deliberate shrouded-in-darkness thing at all; saps some of the joy out of such ebullient music and makes it all the more blinding when the array of strobes finally kicks in. And their idea of jamming, during a lengthy mid-set instrumental break that sent rows of people home early, is alternately minimalist to the point of absurdity (do they mean to be ironic?) or so face-scrambling bass-heavy that it becomes unbearable.

For a headlining turn before a mainstream crowd that predominantly knows only radio hits, it was marginally misguided and a bit lackluster -- and made me wonder if perhaps Vampire Weekend shouldn’t have closed, seeing as that bunch was perfect start-to-finish and easily could have cranked out another giddy half-hour.

Every time I’ve seen these New York charmers this year they’ve been tighter and more invigorating than the last. Theirs is a rare chemistry, a helix formed around Chris Baio’s supple bass lines and Chris Tomson’s herky-jerk but rock-solid drumming, which combine for the most head-spinning grooves of their kind since Cox & Steele’s heyday with the original English Beat. Rostam Batmanglij’s keyboard additions are now less filigree and more crucial, while Ezra Koenig’s already underrated fretwork -- liquidly melodic in the sweetest African style (especially on “Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa”), then as lightning-fast as Dick Dale (most notably on a wicked “Cousins”) -- superbly complements his deceptively sunny demeanor and winsome lyrics.

So unsure of themselves just two years ago, these four first-rate preps have quickly coalesced into one of the best live bands in action.

Based on Sunday night’s performances, however, as well as growing reputations for stunning festival appearances, I don’t think it will be long before you can include the Temper Trap and Florence + the Machine on that list as well. The weekend’s two other imports -- the former is from Melbourne, the latter hails from London -- both turned in rousing sets, all the more impressive for having been shuffled around at the last minute.

Neither had wowed me until now: the Temper Trap were too tentative at shows earlier this year, Florence has struck me as all artifice and not enough blood and guts. But here both were just the opposite. Led by Dougy Mandagi’s magnetic energy and falsetto cries, the Aussies packed as much punch as (and more dynamic daring than) the Killers on a good night, while a hurried Ms. Welch, still clad in her Hera-marrying-Zeus gown, let the theatrics take a backseat to her immensely powerful voice, the only female to get such a spotlight all weekend. There’s enough ferocity in that thing, and in the otherwise subdued Machine itself, that this lot could become as feverish a cult favorite as Siouxsie and the Banshees, given a few more albums as winning and malleable as Lungs.

Let’s see now, what’s left? The Black Keys, of course -- all raw thunder, bravely opening with their sole smash “Tighten Up” (more timid bands would have saved it for last), then king-snake crawlin’ toward their “Next Girl” and maraca-shakin’ their way through the Twilight soundtrack gem “Chop and Change” until Dan Auerbach and Patrick Carney dismissed their auxiliary players (can’t hear ’em anyway) and thrashed the life out of “I Got Mine.” Bet half the audience stopped caring after the first cut. For fans it was a sonic blast -- as potent as the Palladium and twice as loud.

Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeros and Broken Bells, meanwhile, underscored my Night 1 point about Almost Acoustic Christmas being a proving ground -- or maybe it’s just that there are so many other talents all around, no one wants to be the band that didn’t bring its A-game. They easily could have been deterred by kicking off the night and playing to a sparsely filled venue; were this a KCRW function, the place would have been packed and cheering, but KROQ loyalists are only just now getting acquainted with both bands.

Regardless, each emerged happy to be there and gave all -- the Magnetic Zeros, for starters, were far more focused and convincing in 25 minutes here than they ever were across three times as much time at a lackadaisical gig at the Grove in October. Broken Bells’ chief vocalist James Mercer, on the other hand, may never stop being the stiffest man to watch in modern rock, but his distinctive voice and jangle was fully supported by savvy playing from Brian Burton (aka Danger Mouse) and the rest of the outfit, all of it expanding upon their debut’s beguiling spin on electro-tinged psychedelia.

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